Between the Lines
by KiaraAlexisKlay
Summary: So the Magnificent Trio are aliens. So what? They aren't the only ones who have a secret of ultra black helicopter secret service men proportions.
1. Chapter 1

Working Title: Between the Lines

Author: Kristin aka Kiara Alexis Klay

Rating: PG-13 for now. Mature themes might appear later.

Pairings: No ships for now. We'll see what happens.

Summary: What do you get when you add genetic supersoldiers and out of this solar system teens? Fun! Roswell/Dark Angel Crossover

Disclaimer: Roswell belongs to Katims and Melinda Metz and company. Dark Angel belongs to Fox and the wonderful team of Cameron and Eglee. The story idea, while not an original one that I can take credit for, has enough twists and story arcs that hopefully I won't infringe on someone else's creative mojo.

Note: The timeline will be altered to fit in Dark Angel frame. This is AU so some things will be vastly different.

* * *

**BETWEEN THE LINES **

Liz Parker groaned as she stretched further, encouraging by force to make her small, lithe body flex farther and deeper than she had pushed herself previously. She held the stretch for all of ten seconds then switched to perform the same stretch on the opposite side.

"Better," she grunted out, satisfied, as she launched herself from an almost prone position to her feet in one, smooth motion.

Liz grabbed for her sports bottle and refrained from guzzling it down, self-control allowing her to take small mouthfuls and even her breathing. She'd been at this for quite some time – 3 hours, 6 minutes, 29.9 seconds, she absently noted- in order to take her body and abilities into peak physical and mental readiness.

Had one been able to see through the basement windows her back was facing, one would have noticed, under the sweaty ponytail, a small, harmless looking tattoo as far as tattoo's went.

A series of lines, some thin, and some darkly bold, forming a pattern if one knew what it meant or what to look for.

A barcode.

"Liz!"

"Yes, Mom?" said teen shouted up toward the stairwell and sound of her adoptive mother Nancy's voice.

She slipped on a high necked light jacket who's all black with white striped sleeves matched the snug exercise pants she wore, effectively hiding the incriminating tat, and was already halfway up the stairs before she'd finished her question.

"Oh, you're done!" Nancy Parker was surprised. She'd thought Liz wasn't as close to the stairs as she'd thought - apparently she had been wrong.

"Yeah, what's up?" the tiny brunette questioned, going to her mother and giving her a hug, to which the elder Parker returned with a somewhat bemused smile.

"I just wanted you to hurry up so we can have dinner, but I see you're already finished."

"Dinner sounds great. What are we having? Nothing from the café that has cutesy little alien names like the Will Smith or Sigourney Weaver Specials is it?" Liz pulled a face that had her mother laughing.

The Parkers, well, Mr. Parker, owned and operated the local diner Crashdown Café, where Liz worked and helped out as a waitress, hostess, and sometimes manager. She was heartily unimpressed with having to eat the fruits of what she had to labor over almost seven days a week.

"No, this time _I_ made the meal, and I promise you, no slimy green four-foot tall aliens with bug eyes this time," Nancy hastened to assure her daughter with an obviously affectionate smile, accompanied by a feather light touch of her fingers against her daughter's cheek.

Such a display was rare for mother and daughter, who weren't so often blatant in their regard with each other as daughter was with father. Even though their showing of love and affection was reserved most of the time, that didn't mean they were loathing to each other either. Quite the opposite in fact. Both women were just not very big in the gesture department, as each had their own taboos, which made for an awkward relationship at best.

"Good. I think I've had enough of aliens to last for a lifetime," the younger Parker stated, accompanied by a typical eye roll, though her tone was wryly amused at some personal joke.

Nancy didn't pick up on this, but she shook her head at her daughter's penchant for eye rolling as she turned to mount the stairs, leaving the teenager to follow in her wake.

"Oh, I invited the Evans' by the way. They should be here shortly."

Nancy Parker missed the strange look her daughter got at that news, mind already busy with plans for the upcoming dinner party, her motherly duty thus far accomplished.

_So much for enough of aliens,_ Liz sighed, laughing at the irony.


	2. Chapter 2

Between the Lines chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine. Roswell belongs to Katims and Metz. DA belongs to Fox and Cameron and Eglee.

Chapter 2

* * *

Max Evans gave a nervous twitch of his shoulders, his 'deep, soulful eyes' to quote Liz, were anxiously scanning the passing scenery. It was the same streets and houses and businesses he passed by on any given day, but tonight, everything seemed a blur and matched the growing knot of apprehension –or anticipation-in his gut as he and his family drew near the Parker residence.

Sitting beside him in their parents' vehicle, his sister Isabel gave a disdainful snort and rolled her eyes at her brother's obvious pathetic behavior. Her long, straight flowing blond hair was tossed casually over one shoulder left bare from her sleeveless tee, partially pulled up and showing the darker roots beneath.

She was frankly gorgeous, with dark brows perfectly arched and shaped, fastidiously maintained, and smooth skin that had acquired the wonderful golden hue from hours in the Roswell sun and tanning bed. Her slacks were a light bone colored khaki, the latest in 'safari wear', a light cargo-ish pant that was making a comeback in the fashion world. Everything about her screamed class and well-to-do, the finest that their parents could afford for their children.

"Are we there yet, Mom?"

To anyone else, Isabel's pointed question would have been delivered in a sarcastic, biting, and condescending way, but the normal tone was lost when directed to her beloved and much adored mother. The sarcasm was there in mild doses, but Mrs. Diane Evans had caught the look sister gave brother, and had suspected there might be something more to the question than Isabel said aloud.

"You know we almost are," Mrs. Evans chided gently, catching her daughter's gaze in the mirror, and smiling warmly. Isabel's usually stoic heart and perimeter defenses were practically non-existent where her mother was concerned, and smiled back, for once free of the 'cool girl' image she bore day in and day out.

"Yep, just another couple blocks," Mr. Evans agreed, shooting a glance at his son, sitting behind his mother, and sharing a look with his wife.

Both parents knew from bits and pieces of conversations and observations that Max was probably worried about a certain teenaged, brunette Parker with whom he'd been in love with since they first met in the school year of 2009. It amused them to watch the stirrings of young love, and they were not above teasing him, lovingly of course.

"I mean it's not like there is anyone _important_ at the Parkers," Mrs. Evans commented slyly, and Isabel fought a snicker that wanted to come out.

The top of Max's ears flushed in tandem with that rising on his neck, and he averted his gaze so he wouldn't catch any of his family's looks.

_Great,_ he groaned inwardly. _This is going to be a _long_ night._

All too soon they pulled out onto the street in front of the Crashdown Café, and the four Evans' piled on out. It took Max a second or two longer than the others, trying desperately to get his thoughts and emotions under control, but Liz Parker and her damningly beautiful chocolate orbs had the annoying habit of robbing him of whatever calm and control he ever possessed. It had been that way ever since he had first heard her laugh all those years ago, a day he remembered and would for the rest of his life.

* * *

_The little dark haired boy dressed in a plaid flannel button up shirt and tan cargo britches, now called Max, clutched at the hand of the one constant he had in his short existence. That of his sister Isabel, who was as fair of hair as he was dark, and he couldn't recall exactly much of anything before the Evans, now 'mom' and 'dad', had picked them up naked on a deserted stretch of forsaken desert road at night._

_But what he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was that Isabel was his sister, how he didn't know, he just _knew_ that she was his, as he was hers, and that her presence and touch was vital and calming to his continued peace of mind._

_Mom and Dad had adopted them three years prior, and that time had been a real blessing to the two amnesiac orphans, who were desperate for a safe place to be together. The Evans' had given them that. They now had a home, a life, a school, friends, and names._

_Today was the first day of school after summer vacation, and though he had made some friends, he preferred his sister's company and reassurance to anything. The bus stopped in the school bus loading/ unloading zone and the two siblings made their way into the aisle and off the bus._

_He had been following behind Isabel and one of her friends, and they had been laughing and talking, gesturing wildly to one another of their summer adventures. His neck had suddenly seemed to crawl as every hair on his body stood at attention, and his head was searching for its source even before he registered what had made him take notice._

_His eyes seemed to zero in on autopilot and beheld one of the most startling creatures he'd ever encountered. Her dark hair was cut about chin length, as if she'd only recently grown it out, and her eyes. Those darkened iris' that seemed to have flecks of blue-gray, green or even gold in their depths if you looked long or deep enough utterly captured him. Then her small mouth turned upwards and the sound that poured out of her mouth was the very thing that had drawn him to her in the first place._

_It was a startled laugh, a genuine life, as if she'd truly found whatever it was funny, but until that moment never had had the opportunity to express it. In fact, the sound even felt surprised that she _could _laugh at all. _

_He must have stared at her for what was an eternity to him, and if it could be re-enacted, Max was sure that that was when his heart had been ripped still beating out of his chest and given to the little brunette who seemed to be only recently discovering how to laugh. _

_She held a power, a strength, and seemed to call to him, resonating with something buried deep inside that he didn't understand at that moment. It was the day he fell in love.

* * *

_

"Max!"

Abruptly brought down to present day Earth, Max shook his head to clear it of memories, and gave his scowling sister a weak grin and followed his parents, who were sending amused looks his way, wishing that a UFO would crash right into him at that moment and bring him out of his misery.

Really.

Max swallowed as he walked a familiar path, eyes automatically roving to the metal stairway on the side of the café establishment that led to the second story apartment where the Parkers lived. From this side of the building he couldn't see Liz's window, not in sight as her bedroom was toward the back.

The nervousness and anxiety combined with the apprehension and excitement to send his stomach doing all sorts of acrobatic feats that would have made any contortionist or circus performer turn green and roaring mad with envy. He was sure if they had trophies for these sort of things, he would have received the largest and most prestigious for the efforts his stomach was performing, as well as breaking and setting some new records to boot.

"Relax, Max," Isabel hissed in his ear, standing by his side.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered back, ignoring her pointed look.

The door opened at his father's knock, and Max's mouth suddenly went as dry as the surrounding Roswellian desert.


	3. Chapter 3

Between the Lines chapter 3

Disclaimer: Still not mine or gaining anything but entertainment value.

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Liz stood in her doorway, seeing the four Evans' standing outside, waiting for an invitation inside. Her senses had told her the four were there even before the knock and her own quick scan had confirmed it.

"Well, come in," she gave a bashful smile, stepping back and sweeping her hand back, beckoning the guests in their humble apartment.

Her eyes flicked toward Max, caught him sneaking a glance at her, and she felt her face start to warm from the sudden rush of heat that flew from her inner core to her face in milliseconds.

"Thank you, Liz," Mrs. Evans effused, smiling kindly at the shy girl who ducked her head modestly.

"You're welcome," she mumbled.

_C'mon, soldier, you can kill a man thirty different ways just using your finger and take orders from surly customers all day, but you can't take a compliment. Or a look from Max…oh, God, he looked at me too! Head in the game!_

"Liz, are they here yet?" Nancy called from somewhere further in the house, and Liz's keen hearing pinpointed her mother in the kitchen, by the stove.

"Yes, Momma!" she dutifully answered, making sure the door was secure and closed after their guests had all come in.

"Well, this is the house," Liz shrugged, painfully aware that this was very obvious but having no clue what to say. "If you come this way, we'll get to the living room and I can take your coats."

"Why thank you, Liz," Mrs. Evans gushed warmly, giving her a one armed hug across the shoulders. "This is a nice place you got here."

A pleased feeling rumbled inside Liz at the action, and she felt herself relax just a notch more. She took to becoming tour guide, ignoring Isabel's death glare, gesturing at the Western décor as she led them to the living room, and kitchen-dining room invariably.

"It's not much, but it covers the same footage as the café downstairs, so it's not cramped as most apartments, and we've managed to divide it up quite comfortably. Mom likes all the Navajo and Native art, so Dad and I took a couple days to paint and move furniture while Mom must have visited every flea market and store buying all this, especially the artifacts. Some of them are actually authentic, and not the touristy stuff either."

"What, no aliens?" Mr. Evans quipped, and Liz gave an amused twist of her lips, gaze sliding quickly over the two teenaged Evans, but not lingering enough to warrant suspicion.

"Mom's not really into that sort of thing, that's more Dad's clique. When Dad first wanted to convert the downstairs into the Crashdown and live up here, Mom did it only on the condition that her house wouldn't become, and I quote 'a living tourist shrine.' So Dad got his alien themed restaurant, and Mom has her Native house. Everyone's happy. I'll take your coats for you," she offered, and held her arm out to receive said jackets.

They were really just light jackets, not even jackets in the sense of the word, just something for if it got cool. Roswell nights rarely went below the mid sixties, but it was nice just in case.

"Such a nice young lady," Mr. Evans winked at her, causing another blush, but thankfully Jeff Parker made his appearance before his daughter could be further embarrassed and took the attention off her. Somewhat.

"That she is. Hello, Pete! Diane. Max, Isabel," Jeff smiled at the Evans family.

There were greetings all around and Liz took the opportunity to sneak out with the Evans coats to one of the spare bedrooms. With her heightened hearing, she listened in on their conversation, knowing that her mother had joined the group, hearing the adults laugh and imaging the polite smiles on the faces of the remaining youngsters. The thought cause Liz to smirk and chuckle deep in her throat.

The thought of the two families gathered caused an unexpected tightness in the back of her throat and a sting behind her eyes.

_Family._

That word conjured up a quick snapshot of shaved heads and gray corridors, hospital like nightgowns and children gathered on single bunk beds, and the acrid smell of gunpowder and cleaning oil, the heady life scent of the woods and decomposing leaves, of blood, the musky scent of man, cat, and fur against naked skin.

_Eyes Front!_ Liz chastised herself, shaking herself to get focused. Composing herself, she stepped back into the hall and headed toward the direction of conversation.


	4. Chapter 4

Between the Lines Chapter 4

Disclaimer: nope, not mine. Feel for me. :)

**Chapter 4

* * *

**

Isabel held back a frown as she observed Liz coming back sans coats, and fought the myriad feelings the tiny brunette had created in her. She had been shocked at the surge of jealousy she'd felt when her mother, _her_ mother, had hugged the girl, and found herself resentful of the attention and devotion her brother gave to Liz without the girl having ever done anything to deserve it.

That level and kind of devotion and protectiveness Max had only shown toward herself, and Isabel wasn't too happy at having to share it with someone else, particularly this one.

That's not fair Isabel, even for you. So Max has a crush on her, has for over six years, and Mom was just being herself, hugging her. Doesn't make her…any less of the nice girl she is.

Isabel just wished she could convince her feelings to behave but she couldn't help it. Who did Liz Parker think she was trying to take her brother and her mother when she had a family of her own? She should try and convince the Parkers to adopt a little brother or sister if she was that desperate for other family members.

_Izzy!_

Isabel gave a start at her brother's interference in her thoughts. She glared at him and he raised his brows, answering her unspoken question.

_You're broadcasting pretty strongly,_ he chided her.

_I'll work on that,_ she snapped back, careful to keep her thoughts and feelings off her face, something with which she had great practice.

"Does anyone want anything to drink?" Liz asked, beating her father as he opened his mouth to ask that very same question. Father and daughter exchanged amused, knowing looks even as Mrs. Evans chuckled.

"Once a server, always a server?" she quipped, smiling.

"I prefer the term nourishing specialist," Liz's eyes sparkled with humor. "What'll ya have?"

"What are the choices?" Mr. Evans piped up.

The memories of her first family had apparently resurrected another part of herself that she'd kept repressed, and Liz found herself stating flippantly, out of Liz character,

"The usual, water, tea –sweet or unsweetened- juice, I think we have a couple kinds of soda, and if you ask nice enough, Dad might go downstairs and get you a beer."

"Liz!" Nancy admonished, aghast at her daughter's cheek.

"What?" she turned innocent eyes at her mother. "That's what we have, Mother."

Nancy gave a reproving shake of her head, wondering where in the world her daughter got that from even though Peter and Diane seemed to find the whole thing amusing. Jeff wasn't masking his delight or pleasant surprise at all.

"Or I could rustle up some coffee," Liz couldn't help but add, smirking at her mother's look of exasperation.

"I think I'll have some tea, sweetened of course," Peter Evans gave Liz a wink and her lips twitched with a partially suppressed smile.

"Ice in it? Cubed or crushed?"

"Ice, please, and it doesn't matter."

"Iced water would be perfect, and cubed ice if you don't mind," Diane stated, and Liz nodded turning her attention to the younger Evans.

"Soda," Isabel remarked.

"Me too," Max interjected, and Liz nodded, having finally caught his gaze.

"Regular, diet, orange, root beer, cream soda?"

"Regular." "Cream Soda." The siblings voiced their choices in unison.

"Right. One sweet tea with ice, ice water, cubed, regular coke, and cream soda coming right up."

"I'll help. So you don't have to balance anything awkwardly. Not that you can't, being a waitress and all," Max trailed off, embarrassed even as he caught the amused and knowing looks from the adults.

"Sure. This way."

Max followed Liz quickly on her heels, knowing he was probably making the situation worse, but eager to get away from those looks and the one his sister gave him. Max swore she could patent that glare, maybe find some way of harnessing it, and make a ton of money.

The two teens fell into a mutual silence, each one unsure, but it was surprisingly not awkward. Liz grabbed some glasses and directed Max to the pantry, where he grabbed the two liters, coming out to see Liz shutting the refrigerator door with a pitcher of tea in one hand.

She set the pitcher down on the little island doohickey with the rest of the glasses, grabbing two, and returned to one side of the fridge, adjusting the little knob for the correct ice setting for each of the glasses.

"Does Isabel like ice in her soft drink?" Liz finally asked into the stillness.

"Uhm, yeah, she does," Max fumbled a bit, a little off that once again she started a conversation.

Lately it wasn't so bad, talking to her, ever since she got shot and he had healed her, letting her know what he was. They had really bonded on a whole different plane that neither had known existed.

But he had loved her for so long, from such a distance, that it still seemed weird to actually be holding a conversation with her.

Liz couldn't help smiling and Max had the distinct feeling she knew where his thoughts lay. They had shared so much, from their brief touching, little glimpses of each other's life.

But he couldn't help but remember, during the last time they had touched and shared memories, that it felt like she was holding some part of herself back. A sort of defense mechanism, auditing and censoring bits that turned hazy and vaporous when he had tried to chase them down. The contact hadn't lasted long enough for him to delve further, but by then, Liz had already pulled away. Possibly in an unconscious reaction to her subconsciouses warning system.

Liz left one of the glasses on the water dispenser, figuring Diane Evans would much better appreciate filtered water to the tap that the Parker's generally used. She carried it and the other glass back over, filling the other cup with tea, and Max switched places with her to get Isabel some ice for her glass.

"Something smells good," Max commented and Liz couldn't help but giggle. It was so sweet, and he looked adorable, all tall and gangly and shy and uncertain…and it was true.

Her mother's cooking wafted all sorts of good smells throughout the house, smells that had been driving the brunette nuts since Nancy had first let everything percolate.

"Sure does," she agreed, and couldn't resist touching him slightly as they brushed close together while they poured the drinks.

Just the heat emanating from his closeness caused a tightening of her stomach muscles, an echoing burn making itself known in lower regions and spreading out so her entire body felt warmed and toasty.

And his scent. His scent was so…so unique, so invigorating, and so him that she couldn't get enough. She had never scented anyone like him before. That had been the first thing she had noticed, all those years ago, over all the scent of human, tires, diesel, and blacktop was something…not human. Not transgenic or transhuman either, but it wasn't unpleasant. Even before she had made the correlation that he was 'alien' she knew he'd been different. Knew, and didn't care.

The pair swapped shy smiles as they once again fell silent while carrying the various drinks out to those gathered in the living room.

"Drinks are here," Liz announced in the chipper voice her best friend Maria dubbed 'the waitress shtick'. "One sweet tea with unspecified ice so I just gave you cubed, and here's your ice water, filtered."

"Thanks, sweet pea," Peter Evans grinned rakishly at the petite brunette, who took his good-natured teasing in stride.

Diane Evans rolled her eyes at her husband's obviousness even as she thanked the young Parker but took it with all the affection of many years together.

"No problem," she just shrugged it off.

"Here's you drink," Max handed his sister hers, and she took it with a muttered 'thank-you'.

"Mom, Dad, you want anything? I'm gonna get me something."

"No thanks, Lizzie, but if you could take the wine out of the pantry and put it on ice for me I'd appreciate it," Jeff Parker smiled at his daughter.

"Sure," she grinned back with obvious affection, eyes flicking toward her mother who only shook her head and waved her away with an 'I'll get something later.'

"Okay. Be right back."

Liz turned around and almost bumped into Max, who had been closer than she'd thought, and some of his drink splashed on his wrist.

"Oops, my fault," he gave a sheepish grin.

"Puh-lease," Isabel groaned and rolled her eyes heavenward.

_Could my brother be anymore obvious?_ She asked the Powers that Be, not expecting a reply to her rhetorical question. _Disgusting._

"C'mon back to the kitchen and we'll clean it up," Liz sighed, even as she was kicking herself mentally.

_Excellent demonstration of X5 grace and powers of observation,_ she chided herself. _If only Big Brother could see you now. I can just imagine the lecture: 'You must be aware of yourself, your companions, enemies, and your surroundings at all times.'_

This was _so_ going to be a long night.


	5. Chapter 5

Between the Lines – Chapter 5

Disclaimer- Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, the WB own Roswell and all connected characters. Cameron, Eglee, and Fox own Dark Angel and all her characters. There's part of a scene here that I couldn't remember how the conversation went exactly, but I paraphrased to the best of my ability and added in some things.

I own my little muse, a red dragon who had now been named Jareth. So blame or sue him if you have any problems. J/k

* * *

The J. Edgar Hoover building, still a bulwark of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and a symbol of America before terrorists set of a electromagnetic pulse bomb off the Western Coast and plunged the United States into an instant third world country over night, stood proud and regal in her resting place in Washington, DC.

The signs of improvement and the economy getting back on its feet was evident in the determined strides of businessmen and common people turned businessmen and women bustling about. The East Coast hadn't been affected so drastically, and their comeback was steadily and surely bringing the rest of the country back on its feet.

The J. Edgar Hoover building saw some of the most activity, as agents and field officers, consultants and civilian contractors bustled in and out of the pristine glass doors. The building fairly sparkled as the contractors fought to erase the graffiti and glass and debris that a broken world had accumulated since the Pulse of '09.

Inside the busily humming building, in one of its deepest recesses, there stood a wing of offices that were blocked in by bulletproof glass and a sign that read

**RESTRICTED:**

**Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point.**

Here were some of the few remaining working laboratories, complete with forensics, anthropological, medical examiner, and coroner facilities. It was here also that a short, balding man with a Patrick Stewart-esque hairstyle and a dark, bushy full beard and mustache that matched his lingering hair. His deep brown eyes were the color of caramel and Hershey kisses, but were void of any warmth the comparison might have. They were squinted under equally bushy eyebrows as he scowled down at the report in front of him.

One of those 'blue ear' hands free phone headsets was attached to one ear, and he was currently yelling at someone on the other end. The scientist 'squints' of the underground laboratories cringed and ducked into other labs, shutting the doors, wincing in sympathy for whoever was on the other end of the conversation.

"You are interrupting and taking chances with _my_ investigation, Ms. Topolsky! This won't happen again or I'll yank you so fast from the field you won't even know your butt was now sitting at a different desk!"

With an agitated jerk of his hand the irate FBI agent hung up his phone and glared down at the multiple pages of the report in front of him. There was so much technical jargon and charts and graphs and spikes and who knows what else that didn't make sense to anyone without four PhD's that he tossed it irritably on the desk in front of him.

The one thing he did know was one thing was for certain: the D.N.A. testing had come back and there were traces of what he'd termed 'what we're looking for'. He didn't pay attention to the other half of the report, already focused on one thing, and left his office to prepare to keep an eye on his erstwhile field agent. He didn't even pay attention as his assistant entered his office and took a glance at that report.

The assistant casually flipped through the report, and froze, momentarily forgetting to breathe. His breath came faster and his heart pounded in time as he read through the full report and discovered what his boss, Agent Pierce, had neglected. Heart beating erratically, he left the office, taking the report with him, and found a secluded and isolated room in which he placed a phone call.

"Hello, this is Agent Colby. Patch me in to Colonel Lydecker. I think I found one of his kids." There was a pause, then, "Yeah, I'm faxing it on over to you right now."

The jacket on the report the agent held read Parker, Liz, Roswell, New Mexico.

* * *

Manticore undercover Agent Colby was found three hours later in that room, his neck twisted at an awkward angle, eyes surprised and unseeing. There was nothing around the body but the agents who found him thought it odd that it seemed as if the fax machine had been used. Tests later proved that the machine's memory had been wiped, as well as all fingers or D.N.A. traces on the body and the machine, and Colby's cell phone and wallet were missing.

* * *

Outside in Washington, D.C., while the city prepared itself for sleep, a lone figure sat in the top floor of the abandoned Washington Memorial, overlooking the sunset and city.

The figure dialed a number from memory on the confiscated phone and waited out the rings for the connection. In his free hand dangled the purloined FBI report. The phone was answered on the second ring.

"It's Zane. Listen big brother; get down to Roswell, New Mexico, immediately. I think Manticore found one of our sisters."

* * *

_Duh-duh-dun! Left you hanging didn't we? Jareth and I are so ebil, lol._


	6. Chapter 6

Between the Lines – Chapter 6

Disclaimer – Team Katims, Metz, and WB own Roswell and the Team Cameron, Eglee, and Fox own Dark Angel. Get it, got it, good.

* * *

X5-732 ran as fast as she could. She was good at that, running. There was never any more freedom to her than to feel the wind whipping against her as she ran, stretching her legs and body and muscles to the limit, glorying in all the aches and pains that came after a good run.

Tonight however was different, and never had there been a greater need for her running, for tonight wasn't for fun, but for her very survival. The sounds of dogs baying behind her, spurred her on, instinct screaming that the letting the canines reach her would be a bad thing.

Her 'sibling' X5-734, who might very well have been a sibling in truth, paced her, easily matching her sister's desperate strides. Their commanding officer and 'big brother' X5-599 had paired the two together and then ordered them to split up upon reaching the safety of a town or city.

The two close shaven fugitives leapt the fence with an ease and grace that would have any Olympic high jumper positively green in envy and fascination. Glancing over at her sister to make sure she was okay, they were sprinting almost before their feet had regained ground, strides long and even tearing up ground while reserving energy.

The intense cold, already well below zero on the thermostat, was just another enemy to be beat, and was doing its best to hinder the pair's progress. Feet crunched the snow underneath, and their breath fogged in the night air and clung to the inside of their lungs.

X5-732, called 'Vada' by her fellow unit mates and siblings, broke through a snow bank and discovered the road, hardly feeling the cold of the asphalt through already numbed bare feet. 'Brin' her sister X5-734, came to a standstill beside her, eyes roving in every direction and all around them, waiting patiently.

'_Waiting for me to make a decision,'_ Vada thought idly, mind already forming a plan even as her body started moving without conscious leading. Brin followed her elder sister with complete trust and no hesitation, never doubting for a moment that Vada wouldn't be there for her if need be.

Vada was one of the Eldest, right after big brother Zack –X5-599, Seth, X5-353, Tinga, X5-656, and Eva-X5-766…Eva, the second in command, the Eldest sister, who died. She was shot right in front of them by the Colonel as they tried to escape before the trainers could take Max for her shakes to the Nomilies and Bad Place like they did to Jack, and Kane, and Marko, Nala, and Lark.

So Vada being one of the Eldest automatically gave Brin a safe feeling, dangerous for a soldier, but a real emotion despite it being what the Colonel said was 'phony sentimentality'. Vada would take care of her until Zack could, of this Brin knew without a doubt.

* * *

Vada was alone and she didn't like it. She and Brin had been forced to split up in Southern California to avoid detection by the Manticore guards and TAC officers following. Vada had headed further south while Brin headed north in the opposite way. She really missed her sister, she missed all her sisters and brothers, heck she even missed Ben's stories about the Nomilies that gave her and the others nightmares.

She was walking down a road, exhausted, cold, alone, and miserable. She was beyond the exhaustion point to a deep, abiding weariness that had sunk in. She had lost her gown somewhere between California and…wherever she was at. She was in a desert of some kind, the same desert or similar to the one she'd been crossing for days and nights.

She had stopped at a watering hole earlier, having discovered it almost by accident, but her sharp nose had scented the water on the wind from miles away and she'd had a renewed burst of energy in order to get to it. That night, in the little bluff with the puddle of dirty water she'd thankfully taken water from, there came a sudden storm that was frightening in its intensity even as it amazed her.

Vada couldn't imagine anything more majestic or awesome as how quickly the storm came, drove its fury home, and shortly after the sky was cleared almost as if it had never been. She had been fortunate enough not to get caught in the flash flood, forewarned by the storm and the clues of previous floods to move to a safer spot. The roaring flood waters coming down the hills was almost as wonderful as the storm that birthed them, but nothing compared to the stunning panorama of the nighttime desert sky.

For the first time Vada stopped to just look and she was awed by how large the sky seemed, with stars strewn about, twinkling and winking merrily throughout the dark. The air was cool as usual and the air seemed fresher after the rain, and Vada was struck dumb just watching the sky. She fell asleep and had slept the day away, getting up only when she was too cold to sleep comfortably and her keen ears heard the nightlife stirring. There were coyotes and razorbacks, foxes and snakes, rats and other rodents moving about, and Vada decided she didn't want to be considered a meal so she forced herself up and about, trying to warm herself enough to get going.

She chased away a scavenging coyote from the fruit of a cacti, baring her own teeth and growling in response to his warning yips, and had the satisfaction of seeing the cowardly canine run away in fear, her inner feline pleased at the accomplishment. So it wasn't breaking the record of disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling a loaded weapon, but it pleased her at having established her dominance. She was the predator, but she would be careful, for it was a thin line the predator walked between hunter and prey.

So here she was, hours later, in the darkest and coldest hours of the night, naked, walking down a road to who knew where. She was dirty, she could smell herself, and she was growing hungrier by the moment. The fruit of the cactus and its surrounding brethren hadn't satisfied her stomach, which was protesting. But at least she was free. Even if she died, she would die free.

Surprising herself, she started to hum cadence, gradually singing louder, marching in time and thanking her military upbringing for at least that. It was doing a good job helping to keep her warm enough to continue moving, and the steady rhythm was oddly soothing with its familiarity. She imagined she could hear the trainer call out the first stanza of the cadence, and her and her siblings echo the refrain, feet marching in tempo to keep time.

Feeling a little better, her sharp ears picked up a change in the air, and her bare feet, though rubbed raw and bleeding and blistered, felt a change in ground beneath. It was vibrating slightly, and Vada lifted nose to sniff the air, catching the scent of machine and petroleum coming at her over the older scent of asphalt, oil, and broken tire bits. Up ahead, the first piercing of light appeared as the headlights caught her in the middle of the road.

* * *

Nineteen-year-old Vada ignored the searing pain that flashed through her as the first bullet pierced her body. She put the pain in the back of her mind as inconsequential, and continued on with the mission goal: kill Lydecker. The second hit one of her legs but she still pressed on, until the third finally hit her in the upper left shoulder and spun her around.

_This is what happens when you try to avoid your heat cycle at home and crave a good Jack Daniels,_ was the random thought that crossed her mind as she hit the dirt, body wracking in pain and bleeding out.

Surprise and shock kept her rigid in place, and automatically she shut her body's systems down to keep the damage to a minimum, if you call three bullet wounds a minimum. 'Playing dead' had never been a more accurate euphemism. The last thing she saw before she shut down was the feared and despised Colonel looking at her with something akin to regret in his gaze.

* * *

Vada 'came alive' out of her healing trance and completely scared the retrieval team who was carting her 'corpse' back to Manticore. Vada didn't want to go back to Manticore. Number one: it's Manticore, hello! She didn't risk her life all those years ago to escape the place just because she felt the urge to do so. Number two: Mom and Dad were going to flip if she was gone too long, and she'd promised Maria she'd help tutor her in science, Max Evans had _finally _started to look her way without blushing, and by golly, she didn't _want_ to go back.

It wasn't anything to her to snap the team's necks, purloin the vehicle, take whatever cash and weaponry, clothing, and saleable items she could before wiping down the van and ditching it and the bodies into a convenient ravine.

She winced as her three bullet wounds throbbed in pain and she gritted her teeth as she glared toward the distance. Lydecker would pay for that, she knew, but somehow, she didn't think it would be her to collect.

Mentally shrugging, Vada turned around, noticing they were still in Nevada and she wasn't too far from home. But she knew she'd stay away from Amargosa, Nevada for a long, long time. Just a couple days hump and she'd be back in Roswell in no time.

Oh well. Back to the desert for this transgenic. Heat after effects and consequences sucked major.

* * *

Liz Parker sat upright with a gasp, heart beating in a steady staccato rhythm, hand reaching to caress various parts of her body as if to reassure herself she was whole. She didn't know why she was having flashbacks from her past, didn't know, and didn't know if it boded well. Her fingers brushed over three faint scars on her leg, arm, and just a few millimeters away from her heart, feeling the comforting smoothness of the healed scars.

She shook her head to clear her mind. It had been a couple years since her brush in with Lydecker in 2017, back when she had been 19, and had been working off the lingering daze of a completed heat cycle and therefore more susceptible to error and capture.

Of course, her family and friends, Max and Isabel and Michael, didn't know her true age. They thought she was only sixteen since she looked so much younger and innocent and she wasn't going to disabuse them of the notion, though it rankled sometimes. Especially those times she craved a beer or something stronger, or even a cigarette, not that she liked to smoke often.

Doesn't matter, it's not like I'm going to tell them about it or being transgenic anyway, Liz, who used to be Vada, X5-732, thought with a weary shrug. She ran a hand through her hair; idly brushing her neck where her lasered off barcode would appear in a couple weeks, and mentally calculated how long it was going to be until her next heat. She'd been feeling a little…hotter, than usual. Waking up sweating, having the most pleasant dreams about Max Evans…the boy who was an alien who was at least three or four years younger than she, that she was absolutely nuts over. It didn't help that tonight's dinner had opened furthered the possibilities. She could still feel his touch as he had brushed against her in the kitchen, still make out his scent in the home, and recall the looks he shot at her when he thought she couldn't see. Figured a messed up Chimera like me would have a messed up idea of whom to have a crush on, she winced, expression dry, wry, and rueful. 

"So what if you're twenty one and he's not?" she scolded herself, getting up and pacing softly so as not to wake her parents.

"I mean, it's not like I'm planning on having sex with him anytime soon…though granted I've thought about it lots of times. I've been hiding my heat from him and everyone else in this tiny town, and he's so cute and his eyes can suck you in and he works out so he's got that toned stomach thingy going on. Not washboard flat or six pack, but still decent."

Liz, as she'd come to think of herself, sighed and paused in her pacing and musings. Her body automatically shifted to walk toward the window, and her eyes turned to the night sky, as if pulled by some mysterious calling. She closed her eyes, facing the breeze, and took a deep breath of the cleansing desert air.

Since the escape so long ago, she had developed a love for the desert and the night air, sometimes leaving her parents and the little town to rove the surrounding desert and just pay attention to the stillness, watching the stars play and rotate until she was as familiar with the desert as she was the streets of Roswell. She knew every crevice, nook, cranny, hidey-hole, cave, and water hole, sink hole, cactus, and coyote den in a thirty-mile radius.

She knew all the backroads, mainroads, highways, byways, trails, footpaths, bike trail, and airstrips all around. She even dabbled some on the reservation but she had too much respect for the Native's privacy to really snoop around.

She also had stashes of food, clothing, medication, first aid supplies, weaponry, ammunition, and camping gear placed in and out of town, in the desert, and around. She was well and truly entrenched but prepared in the event she had to make a quick getaway. Even then, she knew she could survive in the desert for a good long while, longer than anyone including Manticore could imagine, having trained herself to the environment.

_Always be aware of your environment in addition to the placements of enemies, allies, civilians, and buildings,_ she recalled with a smirk one of the lessons drilled into them since she was old enough to remember.

"I miss my family," Liz admitted quietly to the night, the absolute silence almost waiting, anticipatory.

She had another flashback then, since family seemed to be the trigger word for all the memories all of a sudden.

* * *

_The unit was all gathered around the bunk of a freckle faced boy, his hazel eyes gleaming with pride and excitement as his words held the attention of the whole group, even Biggest Brother Zack. A tiny moppet of a soldier, little more than a four-year-old girl, stared up at him with unmistakable love and affection, furthering his pride._

_'What's happens if you're not a good soldier, Ben?' little Maxie asked, wide-eyed and attentive._

'_If you aren't a good soldier or follow the Blue Lady, they'll send you to the Nomilies and you'll end up in the Bad Place instead of the Good Place.'_

_Gasps of horror were heard from the surrounding child soldiers, and fearful looks were cast and caught, each one determined they would _not _go to the Nomilies. They would be good soldiers._

'_I'm not going to the Bad Place,' little Maxie shuddered and Ben smiled with obvious tenderness at his little shadow._

'_You could never go to the Bad Place, Maxie. You're a Good Soldier, and we'll go there one day, after our missions are complete. Then we'll be together all the time.'_

'_All the time? Forever and ever?'_

'_Forever and ever and ever.'_

'_What if you go to the Good Place before me?'_

'_I'll wait for you, Maxie. Always.'

* * *

_

'_Vada,' the man-child in front of her spoke firmly._

_The newly christened Vada looked up at her adored older unit mate and smiled, pleased but shy, into his large brown eyes._

'_I like it, Seth. Vada,' she repeated softly, eyes wide. Seth grinned back and reached a hand over to affectionately rub the soft, downy stubble on her shaven head._

'_It suits you, you little minx,' he laughed softly, hand leaving her head to rest on her shoulders and pull her closer to him in a hug._

_Vada leaned eagerly in his embrace, inhaling his scent, one that calmed her more than Ben's or Tinga's stories, and let her sleep better at night. It felt good to have her third in command hold her close, for it was rare indeed that X5-353, Seth, opened up to anyone. He was as emotionally tight and reserved as Big Brother and C.O. Zack, and was second only to Zack for military precision._

'_Vada, name me next!' another adored brother tried her new name out, and Vada loved the way her name rolled out on her families tongues._

'_Kane,' Vada decided and contained a yip as Kane snatched her from Seth's grasp and nuzzled her neck. He was always an affectionate one, more apt to show how he felt than any of the others, and he made no bones about Vada being one of his favorites. She giggled at her brother's antics._

'_Kane, stop it!' but she nuzzled him back anyway, rubbing noses, and caressing each other's backs.

* * *

_

She felt a sudden urge to get out of her room, out of her city, to the desert where she knew she'd be able to find solace. The urge was so strong, as if her inner kitty had woken up and was now raring to go, her claws unsheathed and ready to hunt. A quick glance at the stars above told her more accurately what time of night it was, and she was almost disappointed she had to be up in a couple hours.

"I could go now, and be back before anyone knew, but…Sheriff Valenti is already suspicious because of what happened in the diner," the one now called Liz mused, twirling a strand of her long, lusciously dark hair with her fingers.

She winced as she recalled that day in her father's café just a little over a week ago. She'd been off her game that day, she knew that, and regretted it immensely. A combination of having to hide a recent bout of seizures just moments before meeting Maria for work, trying to concentrate on not shaking with the aftershocks, dealing with the customers and their orders, and having Max Evans come in and glance her way had taken up too much of her attention.

She had recognized the scent of cleaning oil and gunpowder, a combination she was all too familiar with, but she hadn't figured that things would have got so far out of hand. If Liz were honest with herself, she would admit that that day's seizures had taken a worse toll than she'd analyzed, and therefore, her reflexes were off and human slow, and she ended up shot.

Liz probably could have pulled something off, like say she fainted or something to that effect, once she got over the shock of being shot-again- but suddenly Max had been there and she couldn't very well have just got up like it was no big deal. That and she was curious, pleased even, that he would come on over to her.

She could smell the change in his heart beat, the picking up of his pulse and breathing, almost taste as his body suddenly thrummed with…. something. Some alien thingy, he had never smelled so…other. The hair on her neck, arms, and shoulders had stood at attention, and not just because Max was touching her. Not just that. There was _power_ in his hands, those wonderful, and large, healing hands, and it thrilled her on more than one level that they were in contact with her skin.

She'd always been a sap for flesh on flesh contact and for it to have been Max…well, let's just say that was one fantasy come true. And she hadn't even been in heat, so the experience wasn't tainted with that feral, all consuming _need _haze that fell over her heat.

Then he had sent that power through her, and the rush of warmth and goodness and _Maxness_ it sent were heady indeed. But then he was in her mind, trying to pull up memories, to get inside her, and she couldn't stop the automatic reflex. Someone was in her mind, _STOP!_ She'd been on one too many receiving ends of encounters with the X4 psionics utilized by the Manticore Psychological Operations scientists to ever be comfortable with anyone but her unit inside her head.

Her mind defended itself, creating false memories, and throwing him out almost as soon as he entered. She knew that he knew that she was censoring, but she didn't let that stop her from literally getting him out of her mind before he discovered her secret.

The second time they touched and made a mental connection she'd been more prepared, and so it was easier to feed him bits that didn't really mean anything but were just enough of her and her life now that he wouldn't get suspicious, or more so than he already was. She hated having to keep this from him, but she also knew deep down, that the people who might be hunting Max and his sister and friend Michael were nothing compared to those who still hunted her.

If she were exposed and captured, with Max, Michael, and Isabel's secret ousted because of her, then Manticore would not be discriminate and jump at the chance to poke and prod and torture and maim the alien trio. Liz should know. As Vada, X5-732, she had been through all that and more, often on just a whim with no logical backing at all. She would never be able to forgive herself if that were happen.

Groaning at the direction her thoughts were taking, Liz left her spot at the window, and returned to the edge of her bed, staring down at the sweat soaked covers, contemplating whether she really wanted or needed to get back to sleep bad enough to crawl back in. The dreams about her family disturbed her enough without having to deal with any fall out of this newly acquired emotional and partly physical intimacy with Max Evans.

Dreams of Manticore, whether about her family or some torture or exercise she had been forced to participate in, set her on her guard. She could just hear Lydecker's voice in her mind, lecturing: _"A dream is the way of subconsciously notifying you of important data your conscious mind did not immediately pick up and inform you of at the time of observation."_

Well, if that were true, then she better be wary. Because if she were dreaming of Manticore that meant that something from Manticore was headed her way and she better be prepared. That could mean a lot of things: perhaps one of her siblings was coming and was in trouble.

Or, and this was most likely, she was exposed and Manticore would be on her tail soon. Lydecker would probably be deployed and Liz wasn't looking forward to _that_ confrontation anytime this lifetime. That last time in Amargosa was enough for her, thank you very much.

"Blue Lady, I'm in trouble, and I _so_ need a drink," Liz rolled her eyes upward in a Max – her baby sister Maxie- way and then reluctantly crawled into bed.

She closed her eyes and wished she could just fall back asleep as quickly and as deeply as before she'd awakened. For several moments, she concentrated on breathing, and gradually her limbs and muscles started to relax one at a time. Five minutes after crawling back into bed, the transgenic once known as Vada was back asleep.

* * *

_You like? Then review please. Jareth loves them and so do I!_


	7. Chapter 7

Between the Lines – Chapter 7

Disclaimer – Team Katims, Metz, and WB own Roswell and the Team Cameron, Eglee, and Fox own Dark Angel. Get it, got it, good.

* * *

_Somewhere on a desert road_

A dark colored Ducati roared down the stretch of highway, its red highlights glinting in the waning light. The rider seemed oblivious to the heat of the still blazing sun, face obscured under a black full coverage helmet that continued the red splashed motif. What you could see of his body, and the body was definitely male, was encased in a weathered brown leather jacket, biker gloves, jeans that seemed to have been poured on, and dusky work boots.

The Ducati was joined by another motorcycle, this one a Yamaha YZF-R1, a deep navy blue with black highlights. The Yamaha's rider was dressed in black Mesh-Tex leather pants and Mesh-Tex II riding jacket in royal blue, fingerless biking gloves, a pair of blue Vertebra 2 biker boots, and a helmet, which reflected the blue on black motif of his machine.

The pair of riders took a left hand turn and jetted past a sign reading 285 South. They were gone before the sign righted itself after the speed of their passage.

* * *

Liz scowled down at the paper in front of her, wishing it would spontaneously combust or encounter an unfortunate incident with napalm. Since when was it mandatory that students have to reveal all in some stupid questionnaire? It had to be the working of that new counselor Ms. Topolsky, and Liz felt all the hairs on her body stand at attention. That lady sent every alarm bell ringing in her mind and to her Manticore trained eye it was obvious she was a federal agent, though why one would be undercover at the school, Liz had a grim theory as to why. Besides, it wasn't as if she could answer all these stupid questions honestly, anyway.

She gave an annoyed sigh and glanced behind her, ignoring the prattling drone of the incompetent imbecile teaching the class, and looking longingly at the window and the glorious day outside, smiling slightly as she met Max's gaze and then returned to looking out the window. This was one of those times that she wished she hadn't let everyone believe that she was younger than what she was. A twenty-one year old super soldier did not belong in a classroom on a very beautiful and humidless sunny day.

The day seemed to beckon her; the desert was calling and she could feel its pull. She could go out and hike to one of the mesas, camp out for a while, do some rock-climbing, maybe practice some of the new holds and throws she discovered in an old Special Forces magazine, take in the fresh air and prepare mentally and physically for whatever Manticore might throw her way.

She also very much so, really, truly, wanted a drink. Beer, whisky, tequila, spirits, whatever! It had been approximately three months, five days, six hours, twelve minutes, and fifty-five seconds since she had one, the exact amount of time it had been since her last heat cycle. It wasn't like she was addicted to drinking. Please, her metabolism processed the alcohol almost before it even reached her stomach, and the healing factor ensured that any 'damage' rendered would not be a problem.

No, Liz just enjoyed the taste, the smell, and the texture of a strong drink flowing down her throat and filling her stomach. The tougher the kick, the hotter the burn, the more she liked it. There were many fond memories of drinking arrogant men under the table; she'd even took over as a temporary bartender at one of her more regular spots for heat some fifty miles away in the next town up 285 North.

She only indulged in this little past time when she snuck out of Roswell for the duration of her heats, often spending time afterward enjoying a shot or two, when she could drop the goodie-good Ordinary schoolgirl act and just be Vada, X5-732, with no pretenses. Such unhindered enjoyment was becoming more and more attractive as she waited irritably for that stupid bell to ring, signaling a release from the confines of school. She didn't know why she was so restless, it was as if Vada and the inner kitty wanted to come out, and wasn't making 'Liz's' life any concessions.

"Ms. Parker!"

The teacher's irate calling brought Liz back to the classroom, realizing that Mr. Shepard had been trying to get her attention for a bit, and he was not happy. She felt the eyes of the class upon her, _his_ eyes, upon her. But she couldn't find it within her at that moment to care. She arched an eyebrow in response to the teacher's hands waving to get her attention.

"Glad you could join us again on planet Earth, Ms. Parker," Mr. Shepard sniped out; his sarcasm was heavy enough to garner laughs from the surrounding students.

Normally, Liz would have ignored this, apologizing and ducking her head meekly. But Liz didn't feel like being subservient; in fact, Vada, X5-732, was very adamantly against it and still very fresh in her mind and snapped back.

"The pleasure's all yours, Mr. Shepard. I'm not glad to be back in your class _at all_."

She accompanied this with an almost bored, indifferent look, the haughty gaze enhanced as she squared her shoulders, sitting up straighter, and raised her chin. Mr. Shepard wasn't the only one whose jaw was agape. Was this _Liz Parker_ acting up?

"Who do you think you are?" Shepard finally managed to splutter.

If anything, Liz Parker's face suddenly slipped into a cold, sharp gaze and she grew suddenly still.

"Someone who has had enough of you and the meaningless crap that you call assignments."

Vada came to her feet in one incredibly graceful movement without altering her erect posture, tossed her crumpled homework assignment to the floor, and strode toward the door with measured steps that could only be described as a stalk.

There was absolute, stunned silence as the door shut on Vada's departure.

* * *

Maria DeLuca was staring dumbly at the door her best friend had just exited and knew she must have had the same mystified look on her face everyone else did.

'Who was that, and what happened to my best friend?' she thought in a daze, blinking, as if to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Nope, she wasn't. Oh, why did she have to leave her smelling oils at home today of all days? She could have used some good cedar or cypress oil right at that moment.

Her eyes desperately searched the room, as if it could provide clues to Liz's sudden mood, and they fell upon Max and Isabel Evans, and their creepy friend Michael. They suddenly grew wide as a thought hit her and she started to freak inwardly, wishing desperately for her lilac oil.

What if this strange behavior had something to do with the Otherworldly Trio?

'_Darn those Czechoslovakians!'

* * *

_

Michael Guerrin had decided to come to school today and he was kind of glad he did. He had to say he was impressed with the Science and Academic Queen. In all the years he had slacked off, skipped, and otherwise annoyed the teachers, staff and faculty of the school system, he had never achieved having a teacher look as flabbergasted and disbelieving that Mr. Shepard did at that moment. And Liz Parker did all that, going from Ms. Goodie Two Shoes to Obstinate Rebel in less than thirty seconds.

Liz Parker. Academic superstar. Roswell High's pride and joy, darling of the faculty, staff, and science geeks (or geeks of any flavor) everywhere. Long time unrequited love of his best friend Max.

Now she had just pulled the biggest coup he'd ever seen, and he couldn't help the smirk and small glimmer of admiration he felt. Sure she was smart, but she had just proved to him and everyone here that she was just as sassy and smart-alecky as any regular kid.

'_Neat,'_ he grinned, eyes unconsciously seeking her usual partner in whatever they did, drawn for some reason to the oddball blond who even now looked as if her world had turned upside down.

He felt a brief flash of sympathy. How would he react if Max or Isabel had pulled something like this without warning?

'_I'd say it was about time_,' he fought not to chuckle.

Even as he admired Maria DeLuca, he turned to check on his best friend and oftentimes leader Max Evans. What was his reaction to 'his' girl toy's unexpected performance?

He knew he and Isabel and their folks had had dinner with her and her folks last night, it was all Max could talk about when he had snuck over to Max's house.

* * *

Unbelievable. Completely unbelievable.

Max was just as thunderstruck as anyone else. He blocked out all the noise as the students suddenly burst into excited chattering speculation.

Liz, _his_ Liz, had just royally brushed off and put in place a teacher, a teacher she had respected even if she hadn't particularly liked him. And the way she had looked at Mr. Shepard. Max shook as chills overtook him.

There had been a sudden glimmer of age, as if she were older, far more adult and experienced than any of them. But it was the look before that, the cool aloofness, that freezing arrogance and mask of total indifference and neutrality that stuck in his mind as if on pause.

She had been so…_other_, so distant. Completely unlike the Liz he'd been in love with for the past nine years. Or perhaps, this was the true Liz who only just now decided to make herself known and Max hadn't seen it? She was harder, stronger, more mature, unaffected.

'_Like a soldier,'_ he thought faintly, refusing to meet his sister's inquiring gaze. He didn't want to see the 'I-told-you-so' in her eyes, or the smug satisfaction of having Liz proved infallible, especially after her not so charitable thoughts last night before dinner with the Parkers.

In avoiding Isabel's look he came eye to eye to Kyle Valenti, Liz's ex-boyfriend, and overprotective stalker extraordinaire. The glare he received gave his chills an encore performance even as a small part of his mind was protesting this wasn't his fault.

* * *

Isabel Evans hissed out an annoyed sigh as her brother refused to look at her. She rolled her eyes at this typical Max reaction to anything Negative Liz. She frowned as she saw Kyle Valenti glare at her brother, her own eyes narrowing and hardening in a protective glare toward her brother's now rival.

Who did Kyle Valenti think he was, glaring at Max like Liz's schizoid behavior was suddenly Max's fault?

'_Liz is nothing but trouble for Max,'_ she seethed as sisterly instinct kicked in, reacting to the perceived threat on two fronts to her sibling.

It wasn't that she didn't like the girl, who couldn't? Liz just seemed to be wrong for Max, drawing trouble, and Max was in danger because he was too enamored with a pair of deep mocha eyes to see anything else.

Fortunately for them all, the bell rang just then to break Kyle's glaring contest, signaling the end of the school day. What a day it turned out to be.

* * *

Maria bolted out of her seat the moment the clarion bell struck, barely pausing to pick Liz's assignment off the floor. She was out the door and in the hallway, intent on a Seek and Destroy mission. Her target: Liz Parker.

And she wasn't going to accept any Escape and Evade from her either.

* * *

Liz held herself, arms wrapped about her chest and waist, slowly rocking back and forth. She was in the musty, upper grid work of the school ceiling, unperturbed by the small confines of the crawlspace. It was filled with pipes and ductwork for the air conditioning and heating, ventilation, and electrical casings. It felt like home.

_The majority of the unit was up at the High Place, their special area on the roof, the one place they knew for certain that wasn't bugged with audio or visual spying devices. But Vada had decided to hang back. The day had been spent in a series grueling live fire exercises, and Vada was heartily sick of the outside for one day. _

_She was currently curled up on her bed, holding herself, watching as two of her 'siblings' stood guard in the event the Colonel, the guards, or one of the trainers came in for a surprise night inspection. Occasionally, the adults would do a sudden head count, but that's what the sentries were for. Tonight Cypress and Kavi were on sentry rotation, though Jace, Marko, and Nala had elected to turn in early for some much needed rest._

_While Vada wasn't keen on going outside, she still had a yen for being someplace up high, and she huddled in on herself, unable to sleep but unwilling to join the others out._

_Her bunk was nearest the window where the others had exited to climb the huge industrial sized pipe to the High Place, so her keen hearing picked up the vibration on the duct before Cy, her tenseness alerting Cy to check it out. She relaxed at the same time Cy gave the 'all clear', and didn't flinch when Kane popped through the window, closely followed by Seth, Lark, and Jaedyn._

'_Kavi, Cy, you're being relieved,' Seth's voice carried the ring of command despite his voice lowered to that barely a whisper._

_Lark and Jaedyn grinned as they replaced the youngest males to join the rest of the Unit. Vada cocked her head as she eyed Kane and her tic (**t**hird **i**n **c**ommand) but otherwise didn't say anything, despite the cat in her being intrigued with typical curiosity. An eyebrow soon rose as Seth gave an imperious hand wave for her to follow him._

_Curiosity definitely getting the better of her, frowning slightly at her idiotically grinning 'brother' Kane, she followed the two boys to the combination of gear and utility locker toward the front of the squadbay. Were Seth's eyes twinkling with amusement? No, that couldn't be, he was the most serious of them all next to Zack, and Zack almost _never_ smiled except at Maxie._

_Kane opened the door and Vada was ushered inside, standing in the middle of the darkened gear locker, her night vision kicking in so she could almost see better than in the daylight. Unconsciously, she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, a subsonic sound wave going forth and bouncing off everything to return to her, a natural sonar, giving her a better idea of the inside of the room than just her regular night vision._

_Vada had to wonder if perhaps she didn't receive a little whale or dolphin in her mix, maybe even some sort of bat. Talking to the others revealed that only Kane and Seth had this seemingly sonar capability, and they for the life of them couldn't think of what else they could be. It was interesting, each of the Unit had some basic similarities, like cat D.N.A., but then they differed in individual groups. _

_Max, Jondy, and Nala all had shark D.N.A. so they only needed to sleep like one night in four if at that, though tonight Nala didn't really need to. Seth, Kane, and her had some sort of sonar capabilities and extremely heightened hearing. Zack, Marko, and Ferro seemed to have the same heavy-duty physique and an extra burst of natural strength, as well as being the best at grasping tactics and strategy. _

_Zane, Ben, Jack, and Kyle all seemed to be the charmers of the group, with lots of personality and the ability to make others believe their far out fables. Those were only some of the individual trait groupings, there were more, but Seth had just stepped forward and gave the signal to…strip? What in the name of the Blue Lady?_

_Giving her brothers a dubious look, she nonetheless stripped, but only after pausing long enough to make sure they _all_ were going to strip and this not be some prank. She was third born Eldest sister and was amazingly adept at hand to hand so Seth and Kane would be in for a whooping if they tried anything on her. Besides, it wouldn't take much convincing on her part to sic one of the dreaded Ben, Zane, Jack, and Kyle team of pranksters upon them._

_Seth cupped his hands in front of him and boosted Kane upward, who promptly scooted aside one of the ceiling tiles and crawled through. Vada stared with jaw agape and gave Seth an incredulous look, he only held his hands out and she followed the unspoken order, placing her feet in his palms and reaching up. Kane caught her and pulled her in, and together they lifted Seth. _

_Using only hand signals, she followed her brothers, realizing now why they had stripped as she held back a sneeze at all the dust and fuzzies in the ductwork. They crawled through pipes and bundles of electrical, plumbing, fire suppressant pipes, and air conditioning/heating ducts. They were at it for a good five minutes before the 'corridor' they had been following emptied into a huge 'clearing', where all the master switches and outlets came. There were other 'corridors' that further into Manticore's building, but it seemed as if this was their destination._

_It was dark here, darker than anywhere else, with no lights or anything to aide her feline vision for night vision. She had to solely rely on her hearing, smell, and 'sonar' to find her way about. The part of her that tied in largely to the sonar was suddenly at ease and Vada mused that perhaps a little bat must be in her and her two siblings D.N.A. and realized this was exactly what she needed, someplace high, but also dark, quiet and close together._

_The trio gathered together, curling up, sharing body heat, and eventually, Vada was lulled into slumber. Her last conscious thought was Seth and Kane could stand watch for them to go back since it was their idea in the first place.

* * *

_

"Bat D.N.A.," Liz mused softly, keeping her voice and rocking to unnoticeable, years of experience having made it difficult even for a transgenic to detect. Seth and Kane had started a tradition that was as dear to them as going up to the High Place was for everyone else in their skewed up family.

Occasionally, when she was feeling as restless and dissatisfied as she had been, she found someplace dark and musty, preferably an air duct or something similar to what they had a Manticore, and she found her center. Vada supposed that was why she loved the desert, loved the caves so much.

She still thought splicing some whale or dolphin in her probably enhanced her echolocation in addition to the bat.

'_Killer whale, orca, most likely,'_ she smirked. That would be neat to have some orca spliced into her. In her opinion the orca was one of the most awesome predators and creatures around.

"Maxie and Jondy can keep their shark, I'll take the killer whale and bat anytime," she smirked, withholding a chuckle. She had to be careful, ductwork carried echoes very clearly.

A sudden yawn caught her off guard, but she stifled it out of habit, and she could feel her head start to nod as her restless night last night caught up to her. There were tears in her eyes as she lowered herself to the bottom of the duct, her cheek resting against the air-conditioned cooled aluminum, and she wished heartily for Kane or Seth's reassuring heat beside her. But that was not to be. Seth wasn't here, she could only hope that he had escaped, the last she'd seen him was at the meeting place during the Escape, right before Zack split them all up.

And Kane…ah, Kane. The tears flowed freely but Liz made no sound, despite the ache in her chest and the hole in her heart. Kane, her most beloved of brothers, who knew her better than almost anyone, was gone. Kane, whom she had named, Kane who had been born to his surrogate the same time she had hers, who could always make her smile.

Dead, long before plans of escape had filtered through to the rest of the Unit. Dead, because some Manticore doctor had screwed up their brain connections, causing the precious super soldiers to experience life-threatening seizures. To be imperfect, flawed, blemished.

A sudden vibration at her side gave her a start before she realized it was her cell phone. Pulling out the Verizon Razor phone, she glared at the palm-sized object in her hand that was set on vibrate and rumbling in her hand, noted the caller i.d. The word _Maria _was flashing on the LCD screen, and Liz quickly hit the _ignore _button, watching as the background colors swirled and blinked at her. Thoughtfully, Liz turned the phone off and placed it back in her pocket, taking a glance at her wristwatch along the way.

Three o' clock. If she hurried and wasn't seen, she would be able to make it home, sneak into her bedroom, grab a quick shower, and get ready for work at three thirty.

But it was such a wonderful day…and the desert's call was stronger and pulled her with greater urgency.

Eh, I'll talk to Mom and Dad and Maria later. If I go home now, Maria will pounce on me as soon as I get there, and demand an explanation for my little defiance in Shepard's class. I wouldn't be too surprised if she's already talked to my parents. They'll be worried…

"But I need to get out of Roswell."

Her course of action determined, she rose to all fours and nimbly made her way through the ceiling, pausing when she reached the area she knew housed the band and music room. She cocked her head, clicking her tongue slightly through the crack in the ceiling tile, and listened to the echo. Someone was in the room, by the doorway, almost hidden behind some drums.

Frowning, she clicked again, harder this time and concentrating on that area, to get a good idea of whom was there. The mental image that came back was female, adult, and the facial structure seemed familiar…Ms. Topolsky? Vada gave an inaudible hiss, eyes darkening, lips pulling back instinctively in a slight snarl. Maybe she wouldn't get out of Roswell just yet. There was a mole at Roswell High who deserved Vada's attentions right now.

* * *

**A/n: How did you like that one? I know that in the TV series Liz's phone is one of those large clunkers, but I figured since this is set in the Dark Angel timeframe that the phones would be a little smaller, cooler, and easier to carry around.**

**Please review! Jareth and I love to get reviews, it gets Jareth in the mood to write more! Jareth would like to see more than just the six reviews we have currently.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Between the Lines – Chapter 8**

Disclaimer – Team Katims, Metz, and WB own Roswell and the Team Cameron, Eglee, and Fox own Dark Angel. Get it, got it, good.

* * *

Ms. Topolsky lingered in the band room for some fifteen more minutes, impatiently tapping her expensively attired high heeled foot, as if waiting for someone.

'_That someone who was probably me,'_ Liz thought as she cocked her head to listen better, patiently waiting. She had settled down some time ago, content to just watch and plan, and observe her opponent.

Topolsky was an attractive woman, young, probably between twenty-seven and early thirties, her soft blond hair usually coifed in some elegant bun or twist. She had high cheekbones and a small, thin mouth that still managed to be attractive, though Liz wouldn't know since she didn't swing that way. Had to be, judging from the men and boys at the school, though that could also be in part to the well-kept figure beneath the professionally tailored clothing. She probably did yoga or Tai Chi on a regular basis.

She had come into Roswell and, consequently, Max, hers, and the others lives not too long after the shootout at the Crashdown and her interrogation by Sheriff Valenti. She scowled as she realized her uniform was still missing, having no idea where he'd gotten it, though she suspected a certain oil sniffing pixied best friend might have had a hand in it. She worried that they might run a D.N.A. scan and find out that she wasn't human and realized what that meant. Or, they might find some of Max's D.N.A. and deduce he wasn't human either and that was bad for a whole other set of problems. Either way it was not good all the way around, and Topolsky was a natural, even fitting scapegoat for her frustrations.

'Businesslike' seemed an accurate word to describe Ms. Topolsky. Her voice did seem to get on Liz's nerves, that kind of soft, babyish voice that still managed to be high. Liz had deemed it the Slow Slut Tone, having seen it used by women who thought it made them seem cute and gullible and therefore more appealing to the men they sought to snare. It appealed to that rugged, manly urge to protect and/or deflower the lovely innocent and disgusted her that men would fall for such an obvious ploy and women so desperate to use it. It disgusted her even further that it seemed to work most of the time, and really disgusted her that she'd had several occasions to utilize it.

Mostly, to Liz's way of thinking, most girls spent their entire life dreaming of being older and alluring enough when they were younger to attract a guy. But when they hit that consenting age they tried to go back in time to that childish way of speaking and thinking. That just didn't make any sense and irritated her to no end when she met them. The fact that half the time she spent as 'Liz' the sweet naïve nerd was completely different and had nothing to do with her reasons for disliking that whole thing.

'_At least I don't sound so…breathy and stupid,'_ Liz grimaced.

She was a bit startled when she realized that her intense dislike of the beautiful spy was not because she was a government operative and possible exposure risk, but because of her almost blatant interest in Max, Isabel, and Michael. She was surprised at her own vehement protectiveness when it came to the Roswell aliens, perhaps most especially that attention to a certain dark haired alien with soulful eyes. She didn't want Max hurt, and by extension, his sister and best friend. So she was willing to do whatever it took to make sure they stayed safe.

Topolsky's sigh of frustration brought her entire attention back to her mark and Liz found herself amused when Topolsky gave a completely unprofessional and childish stomp of her foot as stormed out into the hall. She was holding back her chuckles as she rose off the cold aluminum and started to track the pseudo guidance counselor through the ceiling catwalks of the school.

_Target is prone to extreme impatience and other emotion while operating in the field, especially given an information gathering situation requiring concealment and observation of intended mark. Conclusion: not the best choice for undercover work._

Liz allowed her soldier mind to analyze her mental notes and create scenarios in which to exploit this new knowledge of Topolsky's weaknesses. Judging from the direction Topolsky was striding toward in a fast clip, she deduced the agent was headed toward her office.

'_I can be there faster,'_ Liz smirked, an expression more at home as Vada than her alter ego.

Turning left at a junction she bypassed what would have been three halls and numerous hallways, classrooms, offices, and lounges to get to where she wanted. She had a straight line to her intended destination. She worked the grate on the ventilation shaft as quietly as she could, pausing only for a heartbeat to double check what she already knew: the eraser room was empty.

Dropping down silently, she stayed in her crouch, eyes and ears and nose on alert. Now it wouldn't do to get careless and get caught by the janitor eh? A few heartbeats later she flicked the lock on the door, smiling softly as she took a glance around at her surroundings, memories and snippets of conversation coming back to her. Maria freaking out when Max had sent her the note to meet him here, helping Max spy on Topolsky but having a little Q & A session in which she'd subtly grilled him about his, Isabel, and Michael's otherworldly origins.

The eraser room was an infamous spot at Roswell High. Many a boy and girl and various other pairings had lost their innocence here, or given in to some major make out and smoochie time, or simply just passing the time while escaping a class or a certain someone. Here was where she'd first kissed Kyle, her now ex-boyfriend, on the whim of the last vestiges of her heat induced hormones. She'd genuinely liked Kyle, which is why she'd stayed with him after that little fiasco, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

'_And I still hurt him anyway,'_ she winced, recalling the hurt look in his eyes of the past few weeks as she pulled away from him, catalyzing with her surrogate grandmother's death just a few short days ago and his insensitive comments.

Of course she'd been defending Max at the time, but still, she could have stopped the whole dealio before it had turned into something more for him than just a school fling.

The now familiar staccato stride pricked her conscious and she crouched once more, taking up position by the grate peering directly into the counselor's office. Liz idly wondered if any of the previous or current counselors had ever known how close they were to a hallowed smooching ground where teens through the years had experienced their own little dramas and emotional upheavals.

The door opened with a little more force than necessary and Liz noted that the older woman's apparent 'failure' was grating on her mercilessly. Face pinched and eyes flashing dangerously, Topolsky stalked into her office and sat down in her chair with a grunted oomph! She scowled at the open door for a moment before rising and shutting the door firmly.

Liz's eyes took in the office and could have rolled her eyes at such a lame cover. The entire office screamed sterile and impersonal, not he sort of thing you'd expect from a counselor, and that alone would have tipped anyone with brains off. It was Spartan, no wall hangings or diplomas, no photographs or paintings, her desk was the cleanest she'd ever seen at a school. No files or folders or other paperwork littered her desk, a generic wooden paperweight and an enormous desk calendar competed with the landline phone as the single occupants on the worn, lacquered surface.

Lack of memorabilia of any kind. Room is Spartan and almost completely unused. Typical cover for an operative but tactically unsound in garnering a 'normal' feel in order to blend in to achieve maximum operating results. Rookie mistakes. Target either ill prepared and poorly trained or the operation was set up too fast for all the details to be polished.

The only 'real' things about the room were the briefcase and leather satchel apparently containing her important files and laptop set up by a corner bookcase, a cell phone charger plugged into the wall.

_Side targets acquired._

Liz slowed her breathing down to almost non existent, avidly watching as the blond woman pulled her briefcase and satchel in reaching distance, setting up her laptop on the desk and retrieving a sleek black flip-phone from the depths of the briefcase.

'_Government issue,'_ Liz noted, eyes telescoping as she tried to catch sight of what else was in the briefcase as the computer was booting up.

File folders, at least four or more of them. She shifted her position and tilted her head for a better angle and zoomed in once more. Her blood chilled as she barely made out the black scratching on the front reading Evans, M. and another Evans, I. She didn't have to guess who the others belonged to. Judging from the amount of time spent trying to be buddy-buddy and who Topolsky seemed to focus on, she could theorize with almost certain accuracy that Maria, Kyle, Alex, and her own were the subject in those other files.

'_This is not good,'_ Liz frowned, her brows furrowing as she contemplated this new data.

Grimly she watched the agent's hands as she typed in her password to log on and this time she did roll her eyes and barely manage to hold back a snort of derision. Okay, who in their right mind has ROSWELLALIENSA51 for their password?

The little black phone sitting neatly and primly to one side of the computer started to ring and Topolsky didn't look happy at the interruption, though she seemed to be expecting it.

"Topolsky," she baby purred into the phone and Liz wrinkled her nose, lip curling up in disdain.

_Report, Agent,_ the voice on the other end barked, and Liz quieted further, wracking her brain to see if she recognized this voice.

"Agent Pierce, the sting was unsuccessful. The target Parker slipped away and observation opportunity nullified."

Liz had to hand it to her, Topolsky didn't back down though her voice wavered slightly. She had tagged Topolsky as a perfectionist and was willing to wager big money that her boss was just as anal and would be extremely pissed with his agent's results so far.

_I'm not wasting valuable time, money, and resources for you to go after Parker!_ The voice thundered, and one of Liz's brows arched skyward, even as Topolsky seemed to try to recoup her loss.

_I want you to find those aliens! Not go after some brat who probably was nothing more than in the wrong place at the wrong time!_

Okay, now that one was uncalled for, Liz bared her teeth in a silent snarl, bristling along with the chastised agent whose color was beginning to rise.

"Sir, with all do respect, sir…Liz Parker is one of the only leads we have. There has to be some connection between her and the Evans boy, it's common knowledge around campus that the boy is in love with her. If we just keep an eye on her a little longer…"

_We'll be old and gray and they'll have gotten away!_

'_And I thought Lydecker had issues,'_ Liz shook her head at Agent Pierce's bad poetry.

At least he would not have criticized us in this manner. He would have just looked at you coldly, not saying a word until you'd finished, and then say he was disappointed in you, which was worse than any punishment ever concocted. Then he'd pull you off and ship you out to be dealt with, all the while shaking his head, and dismissing your incompetence. This Pierce has to be a short, balding man with a mustache and an agenda.

Liz listened in for a few moments longer as Topolsky took a verbal beating from the obvious agent in charge, and her breath nearly hitched as he went on about a possible information leak in addition to her inability to produce the desired results.

_Agent Colby was found murdered in an unused conference room of the FBI building two days ago, Agent Topolsky, and there is a report from the Parker girl's blood work missing from my desk. That means we have a Code Alpha Red, and you're to get your ass in gear and get me something concrete, instead of playing Baby Sitters Club. There's no telling who has that information, or if they're from a foreign power. Do you know what that could mean for this country, Agent Topolsky? Do you? Do you realize that your incompetence could destroy us, Agent?_

"No, sir," Topolsky managed to choke out, on the verge of tears, but fighting them back valiantly. Liz couldn't blame her even as her mind was going over all the implications of these startling revelations.

So there, that was it. Liz had all the answers she needed, and she didn't like them at all. She didn't wait around for the rest of Topolsky's dressing down, she lightly mounted a metal shelf and boosted herself into the ceiling vent, securing it behind her. She had to get to Max and tell him of this latest development.

* * *

_**A/n: **__**So, what do you think? Jareth hopes you all like it and review! What will happen next? Will Liz/Vada get to tell Max and the Pod Squad in time…who are the strange bikers on 285South? **_


	9. Chapter 9

Between the Lines – Chapter 9

_Disclaimer:_ Metz and Katims and the WB own Roswell but Cameron and Eglee and Fox own Dark Angel.

**- - -**

The two motorcycles rolled on into Roswell and as if rehearsed they split off in opposite directions like a starburst, one going right and the other left. The red tipped Ducati and its jean-clad rider took the left and swung around town while the navy clothed rider on the Yamaha YZF-R1 took to the right.

Both riders did a few circuits in and around town, occasionally passing each other by in their rounds. Passersby just smiled and shook their heads at the pair obviously showing off their vehicles. It wasn't uncommon, though since the Pulse of 2009 not many could afford a vehicle, much less such a 'leisurely' one as a motorcycle. Roswell hadn't been as hard hit as the rest of the United States, perhaps due to the small West desert town mentality. Life went on in Roswell no matter what.

Kyle Valenti eyed the pair who met up again at an intersection and their machines appreciatively, if a little envious. Both machines roared power and badass and they were just cool. He sighed as they raced away down the Main Street.

_I want one of those…perhaps, one day,_ he thought wistfully.

- - -

Maria paced like an angry tiger, nearly burning a swath in the rug. Had she a tail it would have been swishing side to side in jerky, erratic movements in time to her escalating agitation. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand in Liz's room, giving a moan of annoyance and worry.

It was almost three-thirty and Liz had yet to make an appearance. Jeff and Nancy didn't seem too worried though they were appropriately skeptical at Liz's bizarre mood swing. Maria wouldn't have either if she hadn't witnessed it herself with her own two eyes.

Giving another frantic groan, she dug into her metallic sliver alien head shaped apron for one of her vials of oil. Almost desperately, she uncapped and inhaled, taking a deep draught, trying to allow the scent of cypress soothe her frazzled nerves.

A quick, hopeful eye jump to the clock and a frenzied poll of the room and two entrances failed to produce sight or hair of her best friend and her concern sky-rocketed.

_Okay, cypress isn't working, go for cedar!_

Maria recapped the cypress-scented oil and brought out the big guns. She had brought several various scented oils just for this reason. She'd already gone through lavender, lilac, jasmine, and sandalwood.

With a final whiff and panicked look at the empty room, Maria knew she couldn't dally any longer. Exiting the room, she moped down the stairs leading to the back room and kitchens of the Crashdown diner.

She was getting ready to enter the double doors to begin her shift when she felt a hand on her shoulder and a, "Hey, Maria."

"Good, Lord! _Liz_!" Maria screeched, jumping up in shock as she took in the sight of her best friend before her.

"Where have you been?" she demanded with all the self-righteous anger and indignation of the Best Friend's Due.

Liz stood there calmly, attired in her dorky uniform, minus the alien antennae. Maria frowned: where did Liz get a uniform if she hadn't been home? Her hair was slicked back fresh from a shower (where? when?), and she had her hair wrapped in a bun low on her neck, tendrils snaking down. And why didn't she get to wear the antennae? It wasn't fair.

"Listen, I had to get out of there, I was going to go Full Metal Jacket toward end of boot camp in the head if I didn't," Liz assured her, trying to show Maria the plea in her eyes.

"What is it with you and military quotes? And I thought it was the bathroom, but that's not the point! You completely blew off Mr. Shepard! Where did _that_ come from? It was like you were a female version of that Michael Guerrin creep! Only, he's never been that blatant in his disregard for the teaching staff, he just doesn't show up, but still," Maria frowned as she considered the situation.

Liz tried not to roll her eyes even though Maria's overdramatizing made it difficult at times. She did arch an eyebrow at the Michael Guerrin comparison and Maria's surprising notice and knowledge of his habits.

"Maria, Mr. Shepard is a jerk and you and everyone else knows it. He only gave us those assignments because Ms. Topolsky asked him to and he hoped to get some brownie points with her."

"But what you said!" Maria protested, the pair entering the diner, sending out megawatt smiles to the room in general as phony as Topolsky's cover.

They briefly split to take care of their respectable areas, Liz wryly noting an increase of fellow students, many who had been present for the "Shepard Incident".

Conversations shushed when Liz went by, and she inwardly snorted as it started back up as soon as she left the table. Not like she couldn't hear them anyway, or know that she was the topic of conversation and the reason they came in the first place.

Did it bother her? When she thought about it, no, it didn't. Did it annoy her? Hell, yes.

Maria practically crashed into her, sticking to her side, as they set the dirty dishes in the dish area for the busboy to pick up and send to the kitchen for cleanup.

"So where _did_ you go?"

Liz was gathering up more utensils rolled up in napkins to set out on her tables while Maria started to interrogate her again.

"I went for a walk," she replied, walking over to an empty table to set out the fresh utensils.

"A walk?" Maria squawked and Liz didn't try to hold back her laughter, amused doubly so at the startled looks on the eavesdropping students who acted like they weren't.

"Yeah, you know, that thing where I move my legs and propel my body around to different locations?" Liz joked, smiling at the dumbstruck look on Maria's face.

She realized then how much she had missed speaking her mind and it felt like dropping a façade, which in a way she guessed was true.

She wasn't lying either. After she had left Topolsky to getting her butt reamed she _had_ went for a walk, locating one of her secret stashes with a spare uniform and taking a cold sponge bath in the little utility room in the work shed out back, washing her hair and flipping it back in it's bun in time for work.

"I don't understand you," the blond pixie haired girl sighed in frustration and Liz felt a twinge of regret she'd caused her friend so much worry.

"Hey, it's okay. I just needed to blow off some steam, I didn't mean to worry you," she tried to reassure her, and then froze slightly when she heard Michael Guerrin's voice outside as clearly as if he had been in the room right next to her.

"I don't see why we need to be here," he was grumping as the alien trio entered the diner, and Liz fought a blush when she felt more than saw Max's gaze at her.

Naturally, he drifted toward one of her tables, as she knew he would and mentally prepped herself before heading over to them after they were situated. Maria was scowling and shaking her head, but she went back to work, keeping a not so subtle eye on her best friend as if she'd vanish once more.

"Hey, y'all, what can I get you or do you need some time to think about it?" she greeted them, voice and appearance calm and calculated, belying the slight trip of her heart at Max's nearness and the news she needed to share.

_Easy, soldier,_ she soothed herself, calming down.

"I'll have a Galaxy Shake, strawberry," Isabel spoke up immediately, having no qualms at staring at the petite brunette.

Liz met her stare with an unruffled expression, merely nodding and jotting down the order, eyes flicking to the males of the group.

"A Will Smith burger, extra cheese, mayo, pickles, onions, tomato, and ketchup. Extra Tabasco sauce, some Galaxy fries, and a large shake…strawberry," Michael said next when it seemed Max wasn't going to do more than awkwardly avoid looking directly at Liz.

"So that was an interesting show you put on," he went on, his gaze challenging and calculating, but Liz didn't care. In fact, she felt like grinning as she met his stare and held back a smirk.

"Glad you liked, maybe you'll come more often if there was more," she sassed back, winking, and holding in a chuckle at his surprised look.

Isabel couldn't hold back a snort and started laughing, eyes sparkling as she grinned at the boy who was like a second brother to her. Even Max had a slight smile on his face.

"And what will you have, Max?" she queried, mentally almost begging for those deep brown eyes to look at her.

When they did her breath was nearly stolen but her soldier and savvier side kicked in to save her from acting like a complete star struck idiot. She merely waited patiently until he quietly told her he wanted some fries and a strawberry shake before shyly looking away. She thought it sweet he couldn't seem to look at her, and nodding at them all, went off to place their order, but not before lowering her voice and under the guise of picking up the menus,

"Topolsky is FBI and getting close," she murmured.

Max, Isabel, and Michael were left staring at her and then glancing worriedly at each other.

"My. God. Max! What are we going to do?" Isabel turned wide-eyed toward her brother.

Max felt uncomfortable under her gaze, looking to Michael, who merely raised his brows patiently clearly acknowledging his unofficial leadership. This was so weird, when had he become the leader of the bunch? It had just kind of happened and it often left him feeling ill prepared, as if he was flying blind. Not that he ever flew before, or that airplanes were as popular pre-Pulse.

"We'll think of something," was all he replied, knowing that wasn't exactly what they wanted to hear. They wouldn't say anything else, secure in the knowledge that Max always thought of something.

He sighed and let his eyes drift toward the girl he loved. She was so adorable, and he was amazed at her transformation almost overnight, from this shy brainiac to this sassy spitfire. That wellspring of strength he had always suspected but never really saw but in glimpses was out in full force, there in the way she'd easily handled both Michael and Isabel, a feat that he freely admitted could be trying. He didn't know which he side he loved more: sassy or shy.

She risked so much for him especially since she had found out. But what he, and his sister and friend didn't realize was exactly how much.

- - -

Maria just didn't get it. She eyed Liz as she flitted calmly through their shift and customers as if she hadn't just made Roswell High history by putting Mr. Shepard in his place. Granted, many may have wanted to do it, but no one could have guessed that it would be Elizabeth Parker who would hold that honor.

She also cast a glance at the Czechoslovakians, turning away quickly as Michael caught her gaze and stared hard at her, making her blush furiously. What was with that guy anyway? Didn't he know staring like that at people was impolite? Why, if he weren't in Liz's territory she'd go right over there and give him a piece of her mind. And what about all that Tabasco sauce he covered everything he ate with? Big eeugh!

She looked up as the chime on the door jingled and in walked one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Head to toe he screamed 'biker', leather pants and a leather jacket slashed with navy blue. His eyes were the palest blue, almost the transparently silvery blue-gray of a Husky, and his sandy blond hair was just the right shade of brown, black, hints of red, and flaxen color for a rippled wheat look. Each individual color glimmered and showed itself when the light hit it at a certain angle and she was captivated.

He projected a confidence and aura of influence, his walk a predator's stalk for prey, and eerily reminded Maria of Liz's way of departing the class for some reason. He took an empty table in Liz's jurisdiction, near the Aliens, and Maria somehow felt better that little miss Isabel Evans seemed to have the same jaw dropping reaction to him as every other hot blooded female. She sighed along with the others as he unzipped his jacket to reveal a t-shirt the color of the navy splashes on his jacket that seemed to cling to some very well defined musculature. All that blue just made his eyes stand out more and if at that moment she were to die, she would die happy with this glimpse of Heaven.

A second man came in the door and there was another intake of breath from the female population as he sidled on to join the first man. He was more casual looking, with jeans, a tee, boots, and worn brown leather jacket but that didn't make him less. In fact, that simplicity only added to his allure and unspoken command. He had a prominent brow and a stubborn set to his jaw, blond locks that fell like straw into his face.

There was something commanding in the second one that made the first acknowledge his authority, his command almost palpable.

Then Liz came striding through the swinging double doors at the end of the room in direct line of sight of the strangers' table, and looked up.

- - -

Liz came through the double doors, having been called to the kitchen to help coax the ancient fryers to compliance, and after giving the old machines a loving thump, she left to return to her post. Her father also found a spare set of alien antennae, and just laughed at the long suffering look she shot him, but she put the dorky headband on anyway, scowling up at the bobbing Styrofoam puff balls on top of the springs. She also wanted to have a few moments alone with the Aliens and had a pretty damned good excuse with the delay in bringing some of their food.

So she came breezing in the diner with her stride certain and assured, the newfound decision to not inhibit herself so effusively having taken a weight off her shoulders, and putting her in a very good mood. She was very happy with this turn of events, determining to ease into her more natural Vada-ness so as not to alarm anyone further.

Her head had been down as she passed the utensil counter, rooting around in her apron pocket for her pen and order pad, when her X5 senses went screaming on alert. The first thing she noticed was their scent: there was no denying the subtle blend of musk and feline and the spicy tang of male. The second thing that happened, next to the faltering of her heart at a simultaneous moment, was the sudden prickling of almost scintillating alarm flowing through her body, standing all the hair to attention.

Her head whipped upwards and her eyes met light blue ones.

SNAP! 

That initial contact felt to Liz like being in the aftermath of a lightning strike, the sonic boom serving to freeze her right in her tracks, an almost living snare of energy.

Memories of drills, and tests, and experiments, of shared fear, pain, sorrow, joy, laughter, and tears sizzled in that one glance and she knew. She knew as sure as her true name was Vada, X5-732, who this was. A glazed slide of the eyes to his companion met pale Husky colored ones and she knew who he was, as well. She _especially _knew him.

How could she ever forget?

* * *

_A/n: And I'll leave this at that! Mwhahaha! Oh, sorry, channeling Jareth there:-) Please, please tell me what you think!_


End file.
